More Alike Than You Think
by kamapaludo
Summary: Severus Snape is caught! The Golden Trio plans to rescue him, but along the way, Hermione finds romance in the most unexpected- well, not really- places. Please read and review! constructive criticism is appreciated.
1. Underappreciated Efforts

_Chapter 1: Under-appreciated efforts_

_Not again..._ Severus Snape sighed. Every year, Hermione Granger repeatedly, unfailingly, and definitely annoyingly thrust her hand in the air to answer a question in every class.

_You're such a know-it-all. Everyone already knows so there's no need to prove yourself._

Severus glared at the offending bushy-haired girl. "No one? I see that, as usual, you Gryfindors thought it beneath yourselves to even crack open your textbooks over the summer. It's no wonder I have to deal with your stupidity every year." At this, Severus's glare landed on Neville.

The Slytherins were smugly smirking on the left side of the room. Since this was, after all, their last year, they thought it befitting if they showed some maturity. After all, sycophantically guffawing was _soooo_ last year. The Gryfindors, on the other hand, were silently scowling at the injustice they regularly faced in Potions. They'd learned over the years that keeping quiet was better than facing the consequence of outbursts.

Unfortunately, Harry and Ron (especially Ron)always seemed to forget that lesson.

"Can't you see, you slimy old git? Hermione's got her hand raised. She knows the answer, why didn't you call on her? And why didn't you include your precious Slytherins in that other comment, huh? None of them had _their_ hands raised either!" Ron face was a bad mixture of mottled purple and deep red. He had stood up and banged his fist on the table, spittle flying during his tirade. Harry, on his right, had stood up as well, but allowed his best mate to get his say first.

Just as Harry was going to say his spiel, Severus cut in smoothly, "20 points each from Gryfindor for your disrespect and class disruption."

Harry yelled, "I didn't even get to have my say, _professor_. At least let me earn my punishment!"

Severus smirked, "Well, there you go." Still smirking, Severus continued to explain the answer and assigned the class a 10-ft. Essay due next class.

When the lunch bell rang, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were the first ones out the door. They quickly made their way out of the drafty dungeon, trying to put as much distance between them and Snape.

"I hate that...that...argh!" Mere words didn't seem enough for Ron to express his loath for their Potions Master.

"I know, Ron," said Hermione soothingly, "We all do." Her expression changed from comforting to indignation. "I _especially_ hate how he never calls on me, pretends he can't see my hand, then proceeds to torture the Gryfindor half of the class on their not knowing the answer!"

Ron calmed down. Somehow, though he and Hermione often had fights themselves, her yelling at or about someone else had a relaxing effect on him, as if one of them was enough to bash whatever was bothering them, and the other would just be the silent support.

Harry grinned at his friends. They balanced each other perfectly. Sure, they fought, but Ron's lightheartedness and violent temper complimented Hermione's seriousness and cool temperament. They were made for each other.

As they turned the corner towards the doors to the Great Hall, still bashing Snape while exercising their vocabulary, Harry felt his scar hurt. His hand automatically reached towards his forehead, but stopped halfway, as the pain went as quickly as it came. Hermione caught the gesture.

"What is it? Did you see something? What do you feel?" The concern in her eyes annoyed him, but only slightly.

"It was nothing, just a small itch..." Harry often had random prickles throughout the day, and they usually didn't bother him anymore. He also didn't tell Ron and Hermione about them, knowing exactly how they'd react, so he barely let anything seem amiss. He slipped up this time though, as he was distracted with bashing Snape.

"Harry, are you sure, mate? Should we stop by Dumbledore's office or someth--"

"No, Ron, as I already said, it was nothing," Harry said shortly. He sighed internally. He knew this was how they'd react. _I should have been more careful. There's no use worrying them over the little things._

Still slightly concerned and suspicious, Ron and Hermione let the subject drop and simply sat at their usual spot in the Gryfindor table.

At the teachers' table, Severus glanced briefly at the trio as they sat down. He had caught the little episode by the Hall's entrance, and he would have thought nothing of it had he not suddenly felt a pain on his left forearm.

_What?! Right now? It's in the middle of the day! Everyone's at work; does the Dark Lord really think that we'd just leave at his every beck and call? _Severus silently cursed under his breath as he quickly got up and left on through the door on the left. Of course the Death Eaters would all come. They would if they valued their lives. But, this _was_ unusual. Though the Dark Lord kept a tight reign on his followers and made them prove their loyalty at no moment's notice with whatever came to his whim, he still allowed them to live their regular lives, preferring to interfere during the night, weekends, and sometimes, holidays.

Severus reached his quarters, threw some Floo powder into the fireplace, and shouted, "Malfoy Manor!" just as Dumbledore banged open his bedroom door, slightly panicked, and yelling, "No, Severus, wait!"

Severus already had most his body in the emerald fire and before Dumbledore's warning registered in his mind, a hand roughly pulled him from another grate and into the whirling flames.

Severus very nearly landed on his face on the cold marble floor of one of the Malfoy's many drawing rooms. He pulled himself together, his face clear of all emotions, despite his unusually less-than-graceful entrance. He glanced to his right, noting Bellatrix, slightly sneering and daintily wiping her right hand on the side of her black robes.

"Ahh, Severuss, my _dear_ boy. Glad you could join us." Lord Voldemort sat regally on a throne-like armchair, seemingly nonchalant. On either side of him was Lucius and Narcissa. Bella had moved over next to her sister. They were the only ones in the large semi-dark room, and Severus's sense of foreboding increased. Where were the others? But, like the good spy that he was, he kept his emotions and thoughts in check. He moved towards the Dark Lord, ready to kneel and make his usual greetings, when he was suddenly hit with a curse.

Thrown backwards and slamming into the mantle, Severus had no warning before the Cruciatus hit him. A cold, high laugh was the only thing heard besides the crackle of the flames and Severus's quick and ragged breaths.

"Ssoo, Sseveruss, you thought you could fool me? ME?! I'm disappointed. I thought you knew better than to betray the Dark Lord. _Crucio!"_

Severus was prepared this time and dodged the curse, but barely. _How?! How did he find out? _His thoughts racing, yet keeping his face blank, Severus slowly got up, his black eyes meeting red ones. "My Lord. I am sorry to say that I do not know what you mean. I? I would never betray you. I am your trusted servant, your spy."

"Spy!" spat Voldemort, "Yes, a spy, but not mine. No, you've always been that old fool's spy, haven't you? ANSWER ME AND DO NOT LIE!" Voldemort threw another curse at Severus, but as he was about to dodge it, two other spells hit him in the back. As Severus was spun by the force of the spells, he caught a glimpse of Lucius and Bella with their wands out, the former with a grim expression, and the latter, a triumphant one. Narcissa had a slight frown, but was merely staring at the floor. Voldemort was still sitting, and the last thing Severus heard was cold, high laughter before he fell to the ground, unconscious.


	2. Can We Trust Him?

_Chapter 2: Can we trust him?_

It was the third week of September, and three quarters of the student population at Hogwarts were feeling like Christmas had come early.

After the first day of lessons, Professor Dumbledore had announced that Professor Snape was called away for a family emergency and would not be returning anytime soon. His classes would also be postponed until a replacement could be found. The majority of the students cheered unabashedly at this, and chatter immediately broke out, the main topic, of course, the cause of Snape's departure. Only the Slytherin table was subdued, and the students there exchanged many worried and puzzled glances. The other tables paid no heed, and proceeded to celebrate their newly found, if only temporary, freedom from the bat of the dungeons. Weeks later, many students were still gossiping about it.

"I didn't even know that Snape still had family," Lavender said at lunch.

"Yeah, and he doesn't seem the type to care for them, you know?" put in Parvati.

"I wonder who'll take his place for now. We still don't have Potions...not that I'm complaining," grinned Seamus.

A few places down the Gryfindor table, a different discussion was taking place.

"Harry, Ron, this is bad," whispered a worried Hermione. She was glancing at the Head table, where Dumbledore and McGonnagal were talking, both with heavy frowns on their faces.

"Why, Hermione? Snape's gone, and we don't have to suffer his bias and torture until who-knows-when? Hopefully, Dumbledore'll find a nicer replace--"

"Ron! Don't you see? Snape is on a mission for the Order!"

"Oh. But it's been about three weeks. What's he doing--?"

"Be quiet, the both of you," Harry hissed, "Let's go outside before somebody hears us."

The three of them grabbed some food and hurriedly walked out the big oak doors towards their spot by the lake. None of them noticed the sharp glance that Dumbledore threw their backs as they left, nor the suspicious glare Draco Malfoy gave them before slowly following.

Though it was only a bit after noon, it was already starting to get chilly, but the cool breeze combined with the heat of the sun created the perfect autumn weather outside. The trio walked towards the lake and sat down under their favorite beech tree.

"Dumbledore seems to be getting more worried, so maybe Snape's mission isn't going well?" Harry didn't usually ponder Snape's side job, but if the headmaster thought something was going wrong, it concerned him too.

"I dunno, and really, I don't care what happens to him, just as long as he isn't found out...or betrays us" said Ron bluntly.

Hermione shot him a scandalized look. "Ron! I know he isn't the nicest person in the world, but he's risking his _life_ to protects everyone, even you. And don't even start about the whole whose-side-is-Snape-really-on thing." She turned to her other best friend, "What do you think, Harry? I'm scared that the reason he's not back yet is that he _did_ get caught."

Harry's brow furrowed in thought. "But if was caught, Voldemort would have killed him right away, don't you think? And if that was the case, Dumbledore would have said something closer to the truth, not some story about a family emergency." Harry took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before he spoke again, "If anything, I think Snape's being held prisoner or something, and the Order is trying to figure out how to rescue him."

"But like I said, it's been weeks. How do they even know if he's still alive?"

"Because, Weasley, _I've_ been informing the Order on Professor Snape's status." Someone appeared from behind one of the trees. Someone with platinum blonde hair, a pale face, and a permanent smirk.

"Malfoy!" exclaimed Ron, hastily getting to his feet while trying to pry his wand from his robes.

"Malfoy?" was Hermione's puzzled remark. Harry, next to her, simply looked shocked at the Slytherin currently making his way towards them.

"Get away from us unless you want to start a fight, Malfoy!" Ron threatened.

"Oooh, sooo scary Weasley. Let me know when palms should start sweating. But, contrary to the norm, I'm not here to pick a fight," said Malfoy, his smirk now only a grim line.

"What did you say about Snape?" Harry demanded, eyes narrowing suspiciously, "and did you just mention the Order?"

"Yes, Potter, I did mention the Order. I am, in fact, a member of the wonderful association. A dream come true, really." Though Draco kept his sarcasm, Hermione and Harry noticed how tired Malfoy looked. His clothes and hair were pristine as usual, but he had dark circles under his eyes and the beginnings of a permanent frown on his brow. He seemed somewhat thinner as well. Ron, meanwhile, had finally gotten his wand out and was pointing it at Draco.

"Yeah, like we believe you. I don't know how you found out about the Order, but no way are we going to trust you."

"I never asked for your trust, did I? I'm just sharing some information to help ease your little minds. But, seeing as I'm unappreciated..." Draco turned around to head back inside when,

"Wait! Malfoy, what—er—so, um...we do want to know. What happened to Snape? Where is he? Is he alright?" Hermione bit her lip. She had a feeling that Malfoy was telling the truth.

Draco, with his back still turned, smirked. _I guess you do get to know a person pretty well after six years, even if they are your enemies. Stupid Granger, so easy to hook. Of course you'd want to know, can't stand not knowing anything, can you?_ Draco turned around, smirk gone, and said, "Meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight at 10 and I'll tell you what I know then. Right now, I think I'll go back and finish my lunch." He turned around and started walking back.

"YOU LITTLE...LIKE WE WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY!"

"Ron, mate, just shut up. I'm going tonight whether you will or not. I want info, and I don't care where it comes from, even if it _is_ Malfoy."

Draco nearly tripped after hearing Harry's decision. _Hm. Potter might have some hope at becoming politically savvy. Maybe the Light has some hope after all._ It was Hermione's remark, though, that _really_ made Draco trip (luckily, none of the trio were watching him anymore).

"I agree with Harry. Besides, I trust Draco."

"Draco?" Harry and Ron simultaneously asked, eyebrows raised.

"I...I...oh, don't look at me like that. He's in the Order now!"

"He _says_ he's in the Order," muttered Ron, glancing at the blonde in the distance, now gracefully walking in the giant oak doors, all evidence of falling absent.

"So, Ron, are you coming?"

"Of course I am! Besides, what will the two of you do if he decides to ambush you or something?"

Harry snorted as Hermione rolled her eyes and fondly ruffled Ron's hair. "Come on, let's go back inside."

The three of them followed Draco's path towards the castle, each with their own thoughts on their conversation with their enemy. Their _former_ enemy, Harry realized. He looked at Hermione on his left. She was thinking deeply about something, and he had an inkling as to what, for he himself (and maybe Ron, but probably not) was thinking, _What made Malfoy change sides?_

Draco sat back down at the Slytherin table and as the trio came back in shortly afterward, whispering among themselves, occasionally glancing towards him, he looked at the headmaster, and gave a curt nod. Dumbledore nodded back, his expression now just slightly less burdened, and his eyes twinkling merrily.


	3. Silent Reflections

_Chapter 3: Silent Reflections_

Draco sat in his usual armchair in the Slytherin common room, thinking about his meeting with Potter and co. that night. _Dumbledore wanted me to reach out to them. I thought it would be harder for them to accept me, but maybe that old coot was right—intentions can be conveyed despite one's words and actions. _Draco scowled. _But why do I have to befriend them? Why can't I be the strong silent type like Professor Snape? I'd rather do my part without having to work with Potty, Weasel, and the Mudblood._

Thinking of Hermione, Draco's brows furrowed deeper. She was the first one to show him some semblance of trust among the trio. Why? After all, he wasn't any less mean to her than Harry, Ron, or any of the other Gryfindors. Actually, he was meaner to _her_ than anyone in this school. Sneering, Draco thought, _That infuriating chit annoys me so much. I hear enough about her in the common room, see her enough in classes, and yet, I have had to deal with her at home too! Why father has to even bring her up is beyond me. I mean, yeah, she's smart, but that's no reason to compare her to a Malfoy!_

At the thought of his father and family, Draco's shoulders slumped and and his eyes drooped. _Father..._

Across the common room, Pansy was watching the array of emotions play out on Draco's face. _What's wrong with my Drakie-poo?_

In the Gryfindor tower, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in their favorite corner, _still_ discussing Malfoy.

"Why don't we just _ask_ Dumbledore, for goodness sakes?!" Hermione asked tiredly. Harry and Ron had been going on during and between classes, and all throughout dinner whether Draco should be trusted. One could only take so much of weighing pros and cons.

"That's what I said earlier, but Harry said he didn't want to waste Dumbledore's time" Ron said.

Hermione looked at Harry curiously. "Why are you so against seeing Dumbledore?"

Harry shifted his eyes. "I...I just--"

Ron jumped up. "Let's go." And with that, he resolutely marched towards the common room exit. Hermione glanced at Harry. "Come on, Harry. We'll finally get this trust issue settled." She paused. "And we don't have to tell him about your scar."

Harry looked back at Hermione, startled. She smiled knowingly. "But I _do_ want to know what's been going on with that thing. I'm starting to think that it's been hurting more than you're letting on."

Ron, with one foot out of the portrait door, yelled, "Oi! Are you two coming, or what?" Hermione quickly got up with a cheery, "Coming!" while Harry, still slightly stunned at Hermione's perceptiveness, hastily checked his robe pockets for the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders' Map. Finding everything in order, Harry hurried after his friends.

Across the room, Ginny was apparently watching Neville and Dean play wizards' chess, but at the trio's departure, sighed glumly. _They're off to another adventure, I bet. And here I am...left again. _Ginny sighed again.

"Something wrong, Ginny?" Neville asked, not taking his eyes off the board.

"No, Neville, I'm just a little tired," she replied quietly. At that, Ginny made her way to the girl's dormitories. _Everything's the way it was before 6__th__ year. As if Harry and I never went out. _As Ginny went to bed, her last thought was, _Maybe tomorrow, I'll be able to do something worthwhile. Heck, maybe I'll go on my own little adventure._ Her eyes slowly closed. _Yeah, and I'll take Neville and Luna and..._

Back in the Slytherin common room, Draco tore his gaze away from the fire. He looked around and saw Pansy. The girl thought this was her cue to come over. _Finally, Draco's ready to be comforted._

Pansy sauntered over in what she thought was a seductive prowl, but really was an awkward waddle. She placed herself on the armrest and began stroking Draco's hair. "What's wrong, Drakie? Tell me. I'll make it all better," Pansy cooed.

Pansy was a simpleton and thought herself in love with Draco, but he knew better. This wasn't love. This was infatuation mixed with duty. Draco sighed. _Why am I even complaining?_

_"_Nothing's wrong, Pansy. I'm just...tired."

"Is the Dark Lord giving you a hard time? Do you want me to talk to him for you?"

Draco turned his head to look at her incredulously. Fighting the urge to throw her off and start exercising his vocabulary, Draco simply said, "I've been busy."

"Oh. You don't look busy."

Draco rolled his eyes. _Really, can she get anymore stupid?_

_"_I'm going for a walk, and no, Pansy, you can't come." With that, Draco got up and left the common room, leaving a pouting Pansy behind.

_Oh, Drakie-poo. I know what you're going through. Don't worry, I'll make it all better._

666 miles away, to the west of Hogwarts, Severus Snape woke up with a grunt. He opened one bleary eye, before sighing resignedly. Severus got up and stretched then moved to a corner to relieve himself, taking care not to look anywhere, but the mirror in front of him.

Three weeks ago, Severus woke up with a splitting headache and a sore back. He had gasped in shock at seeing his twin in front of him. After shaking his head at his own stupidity, Severus took in his surroundings. He was inside a square room with multiple rectangular floor-length mirrors for walls. He looked up. The roof was a dome made of triangular mirrors. The floor, thankfully, was a bare cement floor, dirty, but not reflective.

Severus groaned. The Dark Lord really was a master of torture. He wasn't satisfied with merely inflicting pain—no, he had exploit every basic fear and worry of his followers when punishing them. He knew from the countless legilimency trips he took in Severus's mind that Severus _hated_ mirrors. He avoided looking at them at any cost.

Severus wondered what else Voldemort had in store for him. Looking around again, he saw a dark green ball in a corner. It was Quaffle-sized and when Severus picked it up, he realized that it was only half way pumped. _Of course. That snake-head knew I always had to be doing something, no matter how mundane. Of course he'd leave me a deflated ball._

With disgust, Severus threw the offending clump of rubber at one of the mirrors. It merely bounced off before landing, forlorn, on the floor. Severus returned to his inspection. The room was dimly lit by one light bulb at the center of the dome roof. Every mirror was only separated by a thin line, too thin for Severus's fingernails. There was no door. There was no sound...no wait, Severus stood still. _That old coot! He just had to annoy me with the sound of a dripping faucet. Great! Instead of just easing me of my misery and killing me, Voldemort plans to make me go crazy._

For the first few days, Severus kept himself distracted by mentally reciting lists of potions ingredients and procedures. When those proved futile against the constant _drip drip drip_, he practiced every spell, charm, hex, and curse he knew, but those were easily exhausted, especially without a wand. After a few days, Severus amused himself by kicking the deflated ball around. Two days later, he was attempting to rip it to shreds. Severus also worked out a bit, doing sit-ups, push-ups, and before sleeping, yoga. Every now and then, Severus would pace around, then randomly hurl himself against a mirror, trying to break it. He had, on more than one occasion, punched one of the walls only to result in bruised knuckles. The mirrors, of course, remained unscathed.

The only bright side to the mirrors was that they weren't the kind charmed to talk. If that were the case, Severus wouldn't have lasted a week. Time didn't seem to matter. He slept and woke up when he felt like it. Food would magically appear three times a day in front of a different mirror, and the wooden plate and cup would simply disappear once he was finished eating. There were never any utensils.

That night (although Severus didn't know it was night time), Severus's thoughts went back to their favorite topic: how he got caught. He analyzed, re-evaluated, and replayed every Order and Death Eater meeting in his mind, but he still couldn't come up with how he was caught. Someone out there was a better spy, a better actor than he, because Severus couldn't pinpoint one name with a surety. _Or maybe it was group effort, _He thought wryly. In the end, he only became frustrated. He _hated _not knowing something. At this, we smiled ironically. He sounded just like Granger, one of his most hated students, third only to Potter and Weasley. He wasn't usually an optimist, but he had to admit that because of his situation, he didn't have to see those dunderheads he was forced to teach, especially the Golden Trio.

_But Hermione isn't a dunderhead, _said a voice in his head. HERMIONE?! Since when was the bushy-haired know-it-all _Hermione?_ Severus shook his head. _Alright, Severus, now's not the time to become an old lech. Well, what else am I supposed to think about? I don't know, anything else but Hermione—no, Granger. Severus, there's nothing wrong with calling your students by their first names. You call the young Malfoy Draco, don't you. Yes, but this is different...Oh, Merlin, I'm talking to myself._

Behind the wall of mirrors, Bellatrix Lestrange laughed at Severus. "Look, Cissy. Old Snape's muttering to himself again. And look at that face he's making!"

Narcissa cringed. Severus was, after all, her friend. "How long is the Dark Lord keeping him here?"

"Why, would you rather he kill the traitor? Come, we'll convince the Dark Lord now--" Bella's eyes gleamed malevolently.

"No, no, I was just...concerned when Draco comes home for the holidays."

"The holidays are months away. I'm sure our Lord will dispose of the scum by then."

"Ah. Well, I think I'll retire now, Bella," Narcissa delicately said, "For, as entertaining it is to watch Severus go mad, I am getting a slight headache." Narcissa, in fact, was rather nauseous, but Bella didn't need to know that.

"Very well. I'll see you in the morning."

Narcissa hurried to her room. _When is Dumbledore going to send help? Oh, my poor Draco. I hope he's alright. _Once inside, Narcissa locked her door, then crossed to the antique desk and began writing a letter to her son.


End file.
